Silence – a poem

Sometimes words refuse to rise, rendering me mute, silent, as if I were invisible or non-existent. My silence is sometimes unconsciously created, other times consciously intentional, for whatever reason.

Silence 

My silence is paralysis.

Strong emotions rise
like terrible monsters.

Anger is a big rat
gnawing at my heart,
rage is a large jaguar
stalking my soul.

Fear
is the mother of all,
a featureless face
full of danger.

My silence is sorrow.

Grief sunk down
to the marrow,
wrapped around me
like skin,

stuck to me like a shadow
to follow everywhere I go.

Silence is how I disappear.
A mystical mask concealing
my face, a portal to space,
sphere of nowhere, to null.

My silence is passive resistance,

when words are bait to hook
the huge shark lurking in the pool
of my bloody injuries.

 

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About Poet Dressed In Black

Poet living in San Francisco. I like telling stories too. I'm an introvert, and I like, need, solitude. I find that depth is a rare quality. Someone once said to me, "You're a very deep person. It must be really hard living like that. Most people aren't that deep." I said, "Yeah. It is hard. It really is."
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